The Simp in Me Died that Day

It was Spring, 2004. I remember it like it was just yesterday; the simplest details of that day still remain clear as if it happened 15 minutes ago. (That’s pretty impressive considering I can’t tell you what I had for breakfast yesterday morning). Yeah, I know… fuck all that, and tell the story.   

So… one evening, after getting off work, I’m sitting up in the house flipping thru channels at approximately 9pm (my life is like a movie son). Then my stomach starts growling, and I get up to open an empty fridge. (One of the downfalls of living alone: when there isn’t shit in the fridge, you can only blame yourself.) It wasn’t entirely empty; I had like 2 Diet Shasta Colas and a half eaten PopTart from like a month ago. I grabbed a loose $20 bill; threw on a pair of jeans, a dingy T-shirt, and shoes with no socks; and headed to the nearest Wendy’s.        

The phone call that started it all      Ring… Ring… Ring… (literally cause in 2004, Nextel’s were ringing like house phones)

JD – What’s up?
(Let’s call her Jewel; well… because her name is Jewel.)
Jewel – Hey; what you doing?
JD – About to hop in this Drive-Thru line at Wendy’s.
Jewel – You didn’t ask me if I wanted anything.
JD – Tell me what you want; I’ll FedEx it to Virginia Tech.
Jewel – I’m home. I’m at my sister’s house now; swing thru.
(And this is when I fucked up)
JD – Cool. You really want something?
Jewel – Yeah let me…

…And she ran down an assortment of shit, then asked her sister in the background did she want anything, adding another list of junior bacon cheeseburgers and 4-piece nuggets. Their order left me with about $1.17 out of the $20. So with a passenger seat full of food, none of which was intended for me to consume, and an empty stomach, I headed out to see Jewel.        

When I got to the door, looking like a delivery boy, Jewel was fresh out of the shower wearing only a towel. Even back then, if a chick opened the door in a towel still damp from a shower, you were pretty much guaranteed the cheeks. She took me to a backroom, then steps off with the food for her sister. Wholetime, I’m just anticipating her coming back and dropping that towel… and she did. After about 2 commercial breaks into Boston Public, she came back into the room wearing a bra and panties, holding a bottle of lotion. (In my mind, I’m doing the Birdman hand rub. It’s about to go down.) Just as I make the obvious moves, applying lotion to her back while kissing her neck and then a little titty sucking, her sister calls her into the other bedroom. About 15 minutes more of Boston Public, which retrospectively wasn’t a half bad show, there was a knock on the door.

Jewel – Jean, can get the door for me, Sweetie?
JD – Bet. Hey; there’s some little dude at door.
Jewel – Let him in.

He walks in and sits on the couch, and I walk back into the room to finish off that last corner of Boston Public until Jewel came back into the room to finish what was started. Yeah, no such luck for the kid.        

And that’s when it all when left…
Jewel emerged from her sister’s room dressed for a night out. She walked to the couch, greeted the little dude with a kiss on the mouth, and tossed me the deuces as I looked on from the backroom. Son, I was stuck. I stood there for 5 minutes just to make sure I didn’t walk out of house as they were pulling off. Her sister yelled out, “lock the bottom lock,” as I opened the front door, and I swear I heard her laughing. I hopped in my car, and drove two blocks just to sit there and get my thoughts together. (1) How the fuck did I get here? (2) When did I become that guy: The Simp? (3) Why did I even think it was remotely ok to feed this chick and her greedy ass sister? The list of questions that ran across my mind as I sat in that car STILL HUNGRY goes on. I felt like one of those people caught up in Madoff’s Ponzi scheme, but I couldn’t even be mad at her; I set myself up. I drove home and went to bed hungry. I didn’t even deserve food for putting myself on a fuck boy mission. Never again.     
I stopped eating Wendy’s for like a year after that happened.     
Jean DeGrate has told his story